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2012-07-25 Free Country
"This really was a great idea," War Machine says as he pushes his way through the door and bellies up to the bar with his best friend in tow. "You spend too much time locked away by yourself. I know you're in love with you, but it's good to get out every once in a while. I'll have a cranberry juice, please." Having just met his partner in crime on route from Dubai to New York, the pair of them flew around for a bit before they settled on South America. War Machine wouldn't even know what country they were in if it weren't for PATTON's satellite uplink. Wherever they are, the people seem to primarily speak Spanish and aren't entirely comfortable having two armored juggernauts in town. "This time it's not about me, Rhodey." Tony says, even in the midst of ordering something delicious and native. No, really, that's what he asked for: "Something delicious and native." He might as well try some new things out while he's down here in wherever it is that he's got War Machine to meet him. "I screwed up. And I have a chance to fix it. And I'm not going to be able to fix it without help." Tony's faceplate is up and he turns to look at his partner. And at the stools they both broke trying to sit down. Standing it is. "Your help." War Machine glances around the dirty little cantina they picked out. Not only is it dusty, it's a cluttered jumble of mismatched furniture, cheap bottles of booze, and warm kegs of beer. In short, home sweet home. The pair are attracting some furtive glances from the handful of patrons scattered around the bar. It comes with the territory when you're almost seven feet tall and weigh a solid 400+ pounds. War Machine certainly doesn't seem concerned. When his cranberry juice arrives, he retracts his faceplate as well. What's behind it is more imposing, as impossible as that sounds. Metal plates from his rebuilt skull and face are visible around his cybernetic eye. The eye itself glows angrily, bright red and highly visible. "Sounds serious," Rhodey replies, narrowing his good eye and angling it toward Tony. "What can I do to help?" Whatever it is that Tony has in front of him, he's drinking it. Perhaps he's just a lover of alcohol and liquor of all types or maybe this is just some real, true, Tequila. Whatever the case may be, Tony does not mind that he's getting a little taste of South America at the moment. He's oblivious to anything and everything that may be going on around him because his mind is focused on the problem at hand... Besides, that's what JARVIS is for. "I'm a genius. We both know that. But I'm no soldier. I've never gone to war before. And that's what I'm about to do. And I'm leading others into this war with me." Tony sounds like he's a little nervous about that. A rare honest moment for the Billionaire Playboy. "I don't want to lead them wrong." ANd in the midst of all this, a napkin gets slid from Tony to Rhodey. It just says: 'HYDRA'. He doesn't want to say it out loud. Rhodey unfolds the napkin and glances down at it. He's no poker player. His eye widens noticably, though he recovers a second later. The napkin is stuffed into one of the slots in his cybernetic arm. It comes out the other side as narrow ribbons of confetti. Evidence disposed of. "It's nice to see you taking something this seriously," Rhodey says agreeably. "A little scary, but still nice. If they want war, we'll give 'em war. South Philly style." "And that's why I love you." Tony raises what's left of his glass of Epic Tequila for a mock toast. It's about this moment that the entire bar has filled up with San Diablo Army Soldiers. They are armed with high end weaponry and don't look as though they are here to welcome these two armor clad heroes to the country. In fact, they look more angry than anything. The Spanish that comes from their mouths is hostile and angry. And followed by the raising of guns as if that alone is the universal sign for get the hell up and step away from the bar. Roughly translated, it's something about unauthorized entry and under arrest. "I don't speak Spanish, but I'm pretty sure these guys mean business." Rhodey tosses back his cranberry juice in short order, then shoots Tony a look. "Do you speak Spanish? Because I'm pretty sure they're about to shoot us." This doesn't seem to bother him. On the contrary. He's smiling. Then he triggers his faceplate, sliding it back into place. "PATTON, prep me a firing sequence and put it on the display. And start condensing me some water. I'd rather drink my own urine than sip from a tap in this country." "You got it, puke!" The AI barks into his ear. "Firing sequence is online! I'm also prepping a pair of panties in case you shit yourself!" "I've never--shut up. You're a glorified GPS," Rhodey snaps back. "JARVIS does?" is the answer to Rhodey's question, even though he's got his own faceplate slamming down in that next moment. With a whirl around, the JARVIS HUD comes up in Tony's face and there's the written translation of everything that's being said. "Uh, Rhodey? These guys are the least of our problems." is all he has to say about things at this particular moment, before he raises his hands and speaks through his robotic vocalizer to those angry men with the guns aimed at him. "We don't want to hurt you. We're only here for a drink. Please, stand down and we will go on our merry wa--" And this is the part where the soldiers just start shooting. Apparently, down in San Diablo, there is no patience. There is only: War. A high-caliber bullet smashes into War Machine's face, rocking his head back and scrambling his HUD briefly. "Yeea-a-ah, that's the stuff!" he crows, his already grating and metallic voice made harsher by his own vocalizer. When his visuals are back up, he locks on to four of the attackers and fires a salvo of taser rockets at them. The tiny electrified projectiles zoom across the room, cutting the air with a loud CRACKLE. "And that's my warning shot!" he shouts. "Keep it to warning shots." Tony says through the secure channel between himself and War Machine. "I don't need two wars on my hands this week." Tony's smiling beneath his armor and his hands go up with the quickness. The palms glow with that signature blue glow and then: PWN! Repulsor Blasts are sent towards some of the soldiers, blowing them backwards and scattering them a bit more. "I think we might've just broken a treaty. Or worse." Tony's already looking upwards towards the roof, as if his HUD display has hostiles on site above them. "We're gotta' go. Now." More bullets hit his armor and he just volleys back with another repulsor blast! PWN! Meanwhile, Rhodey is taking fire of his own. A steady stream of bullets PING and TAKK off of his chest plate, but they don't seem to be slowing him down. He charges toward the soldiers who are still standing and crashes headlong into them, sending people flying in all directions. Two more are picked up and thrown aside like dolls. SHUNK-RZZZZ. War Machine activates his wrist-mounted chainsaws. The retractable blades snap into place and spin up just in time, as he's already swinging them. It only takes a moment for him to carve a hole in the wall. "Hey!" he calls. "What's with this 'we' stuff, white man? I'm a deniable asset. I can't be--whoa!" An anti-tank round fired through his newly created door hits him in the back, blasting him across the room and toward Tony at high speed. "Did you just play the race card? Seriously?" Iron Man's only got time to turn on his jet boots as War Machine's body comes crashing into his. He goes for the catch, even though War Machine weighs much more and it still has them both crashing into the bar. There's even some groaning from Stark before he shoves the War Machine off and rolls up to his feet. "Luuuucy! You in biiiiig trouble!" comes out of his vocalizer at the fighter planes that are above and swarming around in the sky above this bar. Iron Man's repulsors have him blasting off out through the saw'd opening, while his shoulder plates pop open and a volley of mini-missiles are sent up and into the air to clear the path of any other incoming armaments. War Machine shakes his head to clear the fuzz from it, then bounds back to his feet. "Jets? Seriously? Do these people never learn?" While his parter focuses on the threat from above, Rhodey tackles the heat on the ground. He activates his gatling repulsor, which slides over his shoulder and spins up menacingly. Then he stomps out of the bar and squares off with two tanks, a self-propelled artillery unit, and a small army of infantry. "Now you're all in big trouble," he tells them. PNT-PNT-PNT-PNT-PNT! Hundreds of tiny repulsor blasts are fired in a wide arc as War Machine leaps into the air. When he lands, it's right in the middle of the whole damn army. "Nobody likes a showoff, Rhodey." comes across the secure Armored Adventurers Channel, while Iron Man hovers in the air and doesn't even look at who he's blasting away. His hands are just lifting and firing off Repulsor Beams towards the wings of the jets. His shoulder blades keep opening up and flinging missiles into the air, which arc and swirl with the greatest of style and ease, cutting through the air to explode the weapons on the jets that are being taken out of the sky without a second thought from the Iron Man. "You really should attempt to be more subtle. Like me." And that's when Iron Man brings his repulsors in to face each other, mirroring the beams out and around himself in a wide arc that slices through all the missiles that were headed in his direction at that exact moment. So the opposite of subtle. As per Tony's request, War Machine isn't turning anyone into paste. He swings his chainsaws and hacks the artillery unit's barrel in half, disabling it. Then he picks the whole thing up and hurls it at one of the tanks, sending both behemoths flipping and bouncing in different directions. "Yeah, yeah. I'm the pot, you're the kettle, and I'm still the only one who's black." While he's mouthing off, the other tank has zeroed in on him. A high-explosive shell catches him in his belly, just under his arc reactor. It's a hard hit, one that drives him back several feet and sends him to his knees. His armor is scorched and a crack is visible in one of the rib plates. He's not out of the fight yet, though. Another leap lands him on top of the tank. He wastes no time in ripping the roof hatch right off of its hinges. "PATTON! Tell them to get the hell out before I spray the inside of this thing with napalm." "DESMONTE EL VEHICULO, PENDEJO!" The AI screams through the vocalizer. They OUT! Climbing and hopping over the vehicle of doom, they start to scatter. Running out of wanting to stay alive more than fear or anything like that. They do not want to be napalm'd. With the air assault out of the way for the moment, Iron Man comes down to the ground and lands himself right next to Rhodey. "I don't like where this is going." is said, though he's talking to his AI in the next moment. "JARVIS? What's the deal with these guys? Who's giving the orders? Patch it through to PATTON too." It only takes a few moments before both HUDs reveal the profile of San Diablo's militant and violent leader: Santiago Rivera, The Executioner. And his long laundry list of crimes against his own people. "Well. He certainly looks like a nice guy." Starkasm. "Wait," War Machine says, studying the dossier. "You're telling me these people are protecting a guy who... Do we even have a name for that one thing in English? It sounds terrible." A few well-placed concussion rockets keep the infantry dispersed and at bay, at least for the moment. War Machine checks the ammo display on his HUD and gives his head a shake. "So. Up for liberating an oppressed people who seem to hate us?" The query is punctuated by a riff of machine gun fire that pings off the back of his helmet. "Hey!" he shouts. "Don't make me come over there!" "Weeeellll. I /was/ going to have this suit polished for my visit to the Children's Hospital next week but... since we're already here. We might as well." Iron Man is getting riddled with bullets and he doesn't even really seemed to be phased. They are minor annoyances in the ground scheme of things. "Get high." is said to War Machine, before Iron Mans walks a bit further to and out into the open. He might as well see if he can't slow down these ground workers. And with a mighty leap, Iron Man's in the air and comes back down, slamming a repulsor emitting gauntlet into the ground, sending a shockwave of repulsor power out impede these ground forces while the location and schematics for Rivera's Palace are pulled up by both JARVIS and PATTON. With a FOOOOSH from his jet boots, War Machine takes off and hovers above the battlefield, striking out with his sonic inducer to debilitate the soldiers without destroying them. Every so often, he launches another concussion rocket to keep them from forming up into organized ranks. Between he and Iron Man, they're more than a match for the hundred or so ragtag San Diablans. "I'm just starting to feel bad about this," War Machine says over their secure line. "It's like we're taking their lunch money. Let's go find this Executioner and... rehabilitate him." "En route now. JARVIS? How about a little flying music?" J.A.R.V.I.S. Radio kicks on with Everybody Wants To Rule The World. Iron Man has to fight facepalming, even as he takes off in a heroic streak of repulsor blue in a high arc and speeding rocket style towards the huge Palace not too far from where they are. Well, it's far but when you're traveling at Mach anything, it's not going to take long to get to the Palace. "Rhodey, could you get the door?" Oh, Tony is having a blast with this. Lips curled up with a smile beneath that metal helmet and faceplate. "I love making doors," War Machine replies cheerfully. He airbrakes to a halt and engages his missile launcher over his free shoulder. With a mental command, he fires two anti-material rounds at the palace wall. When they impact, the thermite spreads to cover an area the size of a school bus, eating through concrete, metal, and plaster with ease. In seconds, there's an opening wide enough to accomodate an entire platoon of men standing shoulder to shoulder. Which is exactly what comes out of the hole. These aren't local yokels, either. Each is wearing a suit of heavy conventional armor that includes full helmets and faceplates, and they're all carrying very mean-looking rifles. "Uhhh. Are we still not killing?" he asks, glancing over at Tony. "Because if we're still not killing, I nominate you for crowd control." "We're here to liberate, not massacre." Tony informs his best friend, if only because he's standing here to absorb the ambient energy within the current location. One eye on a marker on his HUD lets Tony know that he's got a fully charged energy meter just begging to be used. It's almost at War Machine's insistence does he takes some steps out and closer to those much more heavily armed soldiers. He immediately raises his hands as if he's about to surrender. But the result is not a surrender. Instead it is the sudden expulsion of multiple beams of random energy being sent into the chests of these armored protectors of villainy. They all get laid flat from the force of the beams that are impacting them right in the chest. "Find him. Make him resign." "Consider him impeached," War Machine acknowledges, lifting one armored hand in a lazy salute. Then he zooms off, nearly scraping the ground as he dips down to fly through the opening he created. Once he's inside, he starts kicking and shouldering through interior walls, traveling in a straight line as he searches for his target. "PATTON," he calls out. "Give me a full sensor sweep. Thermal, echo, bio, the works. If this place has cockroaches, I want to know how many." "There are seven humans in room thirty meters straight ahead!" PATTON replies. "They have some sort of device that's shielded! My sensors can't identify it!" "That'll be him," War Machine acknowledges. He blasts through several more walls and pops out in what must be the throne room. "Santiago Rivera! Tell your troops to stand down." His gatling gun WHIRRRRRS as it spins up. "Now." Iron Man is not far behind War Machine, but far enough that his own entrance into the throne room is what makes him feel the most amazing of the moment. He comes in hot and lands with a quick hop, immediately turning his optics towards Santiago Rivera and those others that are gathered. Santiago is ready to press the button on his table, but instead starts shouting all sorts of obscene things at them. Iron Man rolls his eyes beneath his faceplate and looks over to War Machine. Silently, he raises his arm, one of his repulsors glowing with power and pride "Together?" He offers towards War Machine, whilst getting his half of this dual tech ready for action. "I love this part, too," War Machine agrees, lifting his hand as well. "One... two... three!" On three, he fires a full-power repulsor blast. As big as this room is, the results are still bound to be potent. Every remaining ounce of energy produced by his arc reactor is dumped directly into his energy shield. It ripples briefly as it adjusts to the new power load, then settles. Despite his potent multi-layer protection, Rhodey still squints one eye shut and braces for impact inside his suit. As an afterthought, he cups a hand protectively over his crotch. Iron Man's repulsor beam is right next to the War Machine's this entire time. He doesn't move his hand and merely erects his own energy shield to protect him from the falling down of the sections of this palace. He doesn't have anything to say, instead, keeping his hand up and ready to blast again should he need to. However, with Santiago Rivera being blown through the wall, literally and out into the open where his angry and violent subjects of San Diablo are... well, things may just end up for the better. When the dust and debris settle, War Machine flies up a bit higher for a better view. "We're seeing democracy in action right now, Tony. And let me tell you, it's a beautiful sight." He powers down his external weapon systems and retracts them. "Well. That was fun. Feel better? I know I do." "There's no feeling like repulsor beam feeling." Iron Man shoots off and up into the sky to hover next to the War Machine. "Looks like they can handle things from here." He gives a salute down to those below who are not even paying them attention. They are more worried about putting Santiago through the ringer. Category:Logs Category:RPLogs